Stray Mummy Extras
by Ruse
Summary: Ardeth's zany ff.net wives are at it again, not to mention run-ins with old friends and other incarnations of Oded Fehr. Scary stuff.
1. Parting Thoughts

Following with friend Mommints, instead of posting the second part as a separate story, I've decided to make it part of a collection of snippets. :-D This one below is my first delve into The Mummy and the next is a silly little thing born of weirdness at 2am. :-O My thanks in advance to anyone that reviews and to those who already have.****

**Parting Thoughts**   
Rating: G   
Author: Nine - ninthsaturn@yahoo.com   
Summary: Evy's thoughts after a few weeks rest in Cairo.   
Note: This is my first The Mummy fic, so be kind. Also, if anyone knows where I can find any good Imhotep based fiction, PLEASE let me know where I can read it too! hehehe.   


*

Death is only the beginning. Those words still run through my memory every now and then. A few weeks doesn't make the horror we went through any less fresh in our memories. Oh Jonathan and Rick pretend to shrug it off. Isn't that just like a man? Nonsense! I don't believe for a second that it was any eaiser for them for get over the events we witnessed in that dreadful city than it was for me. Who could simply forget a 3,000 year old mummy chasing after you? But they refuse to talk about it. So, I am left to deal with my thoughts and nightmares alone. 

I suppose it wasn't all bad. If it wasn't for that bloody trip I wouldn't have met O'Connell. There were some okay times on that trip I suppose - before waking Imhotep. I can't help but feel chilled whenever I think of him, Imhotep. I dream of him every night. Strange dreams filled with strange images of both horror and oddly enough sometimes they are more quiet and subdued. Dreams of him whispering to me in his ancient tongue. They leave me wondering who he really was. By now he was a monster, but who was this man that had won the heart of an ancient Egyptian Pharaoh's mistress? This man that would put himself in that kind of danger for the love of a woman? To risk a Pharaoh's anger could win, and had won him, punishments unimaginable. Those dreams are just odd. Why do I have them? 

Last night as I lay there in the Egyptian heat I dreamt of him, one of those quiet dreams. There I was in what my mind's eye painted as Pharaoh's temple, standing alone. I had the sense of expectation in the dream and I'd had enough of these to know what I was expecting. And then he was there. Imhotep beckoned me from the shadows and not of my own volition I went to him. He whispered something I barely had time to translate and then kissed me. If that wasn't disturbing enough, he then took my arm and dragged me to where I saw great opened sarcophagus. He pushed me in it and said that cursed "death is only the beginning" and closed the lid. For a moment all was dark and then I had the distinct impression of bugs crawling over me. It was horrid. Thankfully I woke up after that. That was one of my more tame dreams. Perhaps they are finally fading. I'd like to think I can go back to a normal dream life. But that phrase will haunt me forever. Why did he say it as he died? Before Hamunaptra I would never have asked myself this question, but now I have to wonder if this man is haunting my dreams. Perhaps his death was the beginning of my nightly torture. Good Lord, I hope not. But what can I do to end these dreams? Some of them are so horrible that I find myself longing for the ones that are on the more passionate side. 

Well thankfully Jonathon, O'Connell and I are leaving Cairo tomorrow and hopefully I can leave Imhotep behind as well. But like I said - how can anyone forget something like this?


	2. Have a Frog

I honestly don't know what gets into me sometimes. ;-) The other day I was listening to my Prince of Egypt soundtrack—particularly the song where the pharaoh's priests were singing their "Playing with the Big Boys" song and I was thinking about how if this were in Mummyverse, that would have been Imhotep singing. Lol. I had been searching my mind for an angle to begin an Imhotep/Evy story and as "The Plagues" (with Ralph Fiennes *shiver*) came on I thought it might be interesting to include the plagues, but when the temptation to make Ardeth into Moses came I thought I'd better quit while I was ahead, particularly in view of the fact that a new angle had presented itself. So I'll just leave this as is and let it speak for itself…lol

*

Have a Frog

Rated: G  
Author: Angela - jedinineofnine@hotmail.com - http://geocities.com/saturnfiction   
Summary: Imhotep gives Nefertiri a frog.  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended. 

*

The frogs were cute, if irritating at all hours of the night. The blood, now that had been unsettling and terrible, but at least the frogs weren't horrifying. They were an annoyance, though, with their incessant croaking and hopping everywhere. Nefertiri stood in the hallway of the grand palace, watching with absent fascination as a frog hopped along the windowsill. It stopped abruptly and stilled, watching its audience with almost thoughtful, intelligent eyes and she smiled, reaching her hand to touch it. Her hand paused when it chirped and cocked its head.

Nefertiri pursed her lips and leaned over, peering into the frog's eyes curiously. "Just what are you thinking, anyway?" she asked and of course received no answer. She sighed and reached for it again, smiling as it tried to hop away but couldn't. A small webbed foot was now caught in one of the cracks in the sill. Nefertiri carefully drew the toes out softly, then let it free, expecting it to hop away.

To her surprise, it remained. The frog blinked its green eyes and watched her with an almost thankful expression. "You know I always loved Moses. Would you mind terribly telling your brothers that, so they may let me have privacy at least in my own rooms?" She sighed when the frog failed to communicate other than a questioning croak. "My father is blind, I know. And my brother makes it worse with his lies and hard heart. The slaves are not the only ones that suffer." An image of her mother rose up within her mind, unbidden and painful.

Nefertiri swallowed and leaned against the sill, watching her little friend study her. Seti was dangerously wrapped around the finger of her brother Rameses and at his advice, would not let the Israelites leave to worship their god. Personally Nefertiri couldn't see what the big deal was. She would have let them go. "The affairs of men," she sneered, stroking a finger across the frog's back.

A shadow covered both the princess and her pet. The frog did not back down at the High Priest of Osiris' scrutiny. Nefertiri looked up into his face and he smiled in amusement. "Does this pest have you under a spell, princess, that you would speak to it as if it understood?" His hand closed around the little thing and he held it threateningly out the window.

Knitting her brow, Nefertiri grabbed his arm and hissed, "Don't you dare kill that poor little thing!"

Imhotep laughed and drew it back inside, keeping it tucked within the breadth of his hand. He looked down at it thoughtfully with that same smirk written across his lips. She watched the priest begin petting it. "It is not as if they do not invade every room within the palace, not to mention the streets. Where there is one, there are a hundred more."

"Can you do nothing, Imhotep?" she questioned and his weary sigh made her shoulders sink.

His dark eyes stayed upon the tiny guest nestled in his hand as he touched it gently. "I have tried, Princess. Unfortunately my chants have had no effect." Imhotep looked into her contemplative face. "Your father is going to ask Moses and Aaron to pray to their god to rid us of these frogs. Then he will let them go, but I fear Rameses will deter him from that yet again and bring more suffering upon us."

Nefertiri crossed her arms and looked out the window, wondering what life would bring next, conscious that the handsome High Priest watched her. Her friend and teacher, Egypt's caretaker of the dead, Imhotep was silent and that silence made her uncomfortable in a nice way. His hand made her skin feel warm when he pressed it to her bare arm. "Do not let your heart be troubled," he told her softly and she looked up with a smile. "I will protect you."

His hand found hers and turned it up. Instantly her pulse began to race as his body neared and she closed her eyes in expectation. A small slick feeling in her palm ended all romantic feelings however, when he laughed and pressed that silly frog into her hand. Nefertiri opened her eyes and frowned. "Here, princess," he said gently, looking her over with glittering eyes. "Have a frog."

Nefertiri scowled when he turned away and headed down the hallway, his black robes trailing him mysteriously. With a roll of her eyes the princess stuck her tongue out at the back facing her and held up the little frog. "He's an idiot," she told it with a certainty.

With two thoughtful green eyes the frog croaked its assessment and Nefertiri smiled.__


	3. Speak Softly: Rude Awakening

Well, this scene isn't going to feature into Speak Softly, as I had planned, so I'm giving it the axe and sending it to the stray pile. Doh! Well, it does clue in to certain events later on in Softly, but in the end the changes were enough to warrant this as unnecessary, as now Imhotep rules the world instead of Egypt as I'd planned, as well as the daylight being normal and some other things that won't be mentioned now.

Anyway, anyone who hasn't read Speak Softly, Evelyn lives as Imhotep's slave in that story and Ardeth is his enemy. Imhotep wants to marry Evy to break Ardeth's heart and well, we'll see what happens. Lol. I can't get into detail, just suffice to say this scene didn't make it, but was nice interaction between Evy and Immy, I thought. Thanks to anyone who reviewed Frog and Thoughts. :-D

*

The sun crept through the parted curtain, making its way slowly across the floor, over the chair by the window and up the bed. It started by warming her toes, the gradually met her legs and on up until Evelyn was blinking back the sunshine. She sighed and turned away, pulling her blanket up over her eyes and letting her body get comfortable again. She loved this bed.

Try as she may, though, she could not get back to sleep. Sounds in the room next door filtered in, announcing that Imhotep was up and about. The night they had returned a room in his apartments had been dressed for her to sleep in apart from him when she wished. Evy snorted and rolled over. Like she would ever willingly want to sleep with him. She didn't understand why he even slept at all. He certainly didn't need it. Perhaps it was the habit of his years as a mortal man that kept him doing such things.

Today was the day. Well, one of the days. Evy groaned, knowing he would want her up soon. Today they would announce over radio their upcoming wedding. The thought made her stomach hurt. She hadn't the faintest clue what this change would bring her. Despite his promises to treat her better, Evy feared this would lead to higher expectations on his part. If he had any ideas about her becoming some doting wife he would be in for a rude awakening.

Evy groaned at irony as the door from his room opened. She cringed at the sound of her drapes being opened, then felt like yelling at him when he sat down on the bed. A hand found its way under her covers, onto her hip and she huffed, pulling away. Imhotep laughed pulled the blanket down. "My betrothed, you are wise to recoil, for one day you may actually like what my hands do."

Painting a very impressive scowl onto her face, Evy faced him and breathed, "I wouldn't count on that."

He smiled at her decidedly grumpy attitude and slipped beneath the covers despite the threat of wrinkling his robe. Evy naturally pulled away, now very interested in getting out of bed, but he made no move to pin her. She ventured a glance and saw his eyes were closed. "Lilas has completed two of your dresses. She will come by before noon to fit them."

"Do you know which two?" she asked, thrilled by the prospect of being able to dress like a lady. Little Lilas, Imhotep's meek tailor, had been marvelous with her designs and Evy was quite looking forward to trying them on.

Imhotep opened his eyes and turned onto his side, sending his hand into her hair. "The scarlet one of today's design and the white of Egyptian. I looked at her drawings and they were very pleasing. Egypt will stand in awe of your beauty."

Looking down at his compliment, Evelyn sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. The priest brushed her hair behind her ears. "We have a country to rule, Nefertiri. I want you to help me. Will you cast aside the hate enough that you may do this? All I desire is peace. We had it in the time before Ardeth Bay."

Evy flinched at the name and he caught it, but made no comment. They did have peace before Ardeth. How could they not in over a year's time? That hadn't meant she wanted him then and surely not now if she gave it again. She feared Imhotep had already sent jackals to kill Ardeth, but Evy couldn't allow that small paranoia to make her hateful for then he truly would kill him. She had to believe Ardeth was safe somewhere. "I can keep the peace," she told him with a resigned sigh that made him look over her instead of at her. "I'm sorry. I just need time. Please understand."

"I understand," he replied, pushing himself partially up. He stopped and looked into her face with a smile. "I have things to attend to, my queen. Will you spare your loveless husband a kiss?"

_Some understanding_, she thought, watching him wait for an answer. Evy worried this would lead to other 'sparing' of her intimacies, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it. "I suppose I could," was her terse reply as she pressed her lips into his quickly.

Imhotep laughed, shaking his head as he got up from the bed. "You would break my heart if I had one to speak of." The high priest smiled down, then turned and left her alone again.

Evy wrapped into herself and closed her eyes, frowning at him and muttering, "Just who does he think he is?"

*

Bonus preview of Softly, of that which replaced the scene above, actually:

He was in the dark. He felt as though he had not truly lived in ages. His body felt charged and his senses hunted that which they sensed with a vengeance unlike mortality. It consumed him, these feelings, as he drew himself off of the stone bed and onto the concrete below. The sound washed him like a freezing bath, bringing burning and sensation. His knees buckled and he dropped weakly. He did this alone.

Confused and afraid, he pulled himself up and fought for air a moment, wondering what under the sky had befallen him. The darkness called to him, pawing at his body in a strange lust he had never before been stalked by. He could never recall a time where his emotions had been so unbalanced, so lost and bittersweet. But what was missing from him?

His body trembled and his heart pounded. Everything tingled from head to toe, everything saturating the everything around him. He didn't want to leave this place. Surely outside he would find the gates of hell waiting for him.

Imhotep blinked in the darkness, feeling as if he were both dying and being born at the same time. His footsteps were loud and the scent of the air was dusty from not having had movement touch these halls in long years. He felt of his clothes, finding strange things covering his body and a weapon at his side. Was Osiris finally bringing punishment upon his High Priest by driving him mad?

He pressed himself forward and without knowing how, followed the path out of this place without error. The brightness at the door was terrifying, burning his spirit with unfathomable grace. The priest turned away and thought about staying in this place of death forever. Anything to hide the beauty of what he would find out there.

Yet what should he fear? He was Pharaoh, ordained of the gods—a god himself in every respect that mattered to the people he ruled. But he could not deny to himself the dread spreading through him. Imhotep forced himself to calm and turn to face the piercing light. He found the exit and stepped into the daylight.

Life screamed around him, clawing at his mind like frantic slaves seeking escape. The world looked barren and dead, but the life that still breathed here was more beautiful than he thought he could endure. He had never felt his spirit so filled, even before the curse. It drew tears to his dark eyes, but he refused to shed them.

Imhotep looked down at his body and saw the clothes of his enemy wrapped around his limbs. He held his hands up and looked—they were his. No long hair fell to his shoulders and his amulet was still where it should be. What insanity was this? Unnerved, Imhotep threw his hands by his side and stormed down from the burial grounds of his enemy, refusing to give in to his fear.__


	4. Speak Softly: More DVD Extras! Yeehaw ...

[rant] *Sniff* ff.net won't let me upload html documents! Oh the humanity! No more bold or italics! Noooo! God nooooo! I hope they get it fixed soon.I like my format extras!! [/rant]  
  
Another Softly scene. This time a lot of what you'll read will make the cut, but changed and reordered to fit the new scene. I wasn't going to post this, but today I got a review from "Crimson Rogue" (Thanks a bunch! :-) asking for an update (which might have been intended for Frog??) or if not, you can find the whole of Speak Softly at: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1072302  
  
And anyway, there's a scene coming up in Softly in a few chapters that I think posting this beforehand might be helpful, or more reassuring perhaps. I'm trying not to give away plot.lol. But you'll perhaps understand when you read. :-D Anyhow, I'll post the first scene that won't appear as is and then I'll post what WILL show up in Softly, where you can compare and tell me perhaps which you thought was better.  
  
*  
  
Version One:  
  
"Sleep with us," the multiple voices breathed again, putting visions of sleep within his mind. He would be guarded by his own host of human angels, kept safe and peaceful until death took him. They wanted him, wanted his life, to watch him as he would watch Evelyn and savor her breath. The world outside seemed suddenly bigger and more frightening.  
  
His attention fell to a sarcophagus nearby where he could hide and sleep, undisturbed by the priests. "No," he whispered, answered by doubt and fear. It was better to die here, to die peacefully than to fail at the blade of Imhotep, they were telling him. Better than dying alone, for Rick had betrayed him in his jealousy and Evelyn still had yet to hurt him. All would betray him. He would not believe it. This was a lie of Necromancer's.  
  
He took another step and despaired at the hurt swelling around him. They were frightened of him heading this way and their want for him consumed so searingly that he nearly fell to his knees in sadness. Some of that was his own now. How could he hope to find the Staff of Osiris and escape against such hypnotic need?  
  
Suddenly, they fled. All unnatural oppression went with them and was replaced by a voice. "This time you will not escape," Necromancer hissed and without warning, struck out.  
  
If not for instinct, Ardeth would have been dead. Whatever blade the creature may have found in this place had missed its mark, allowing the Med- Jai a chance to flee. He did not have to question why Necromancer had turned on him. The creature himself had warned him not to trust him, but for the love in his heart Ardeth could not help but hope. Well, now he was proven wrong. Those rushing feet behind him intended only one thing-his death. He could hear that terrible hissing and rasping increase, followed by intent growling, and a chill spread through him. This was not his friend. Could anything human make such foul, demonic noises?  
  
Ardeth felt along the coffins desperately, taking a turn here and there, but the advantage belonged to the creature. It could see in the dark, Ardeth had no sight whatsoever in this place. Yet without knowing how, he did seem to perceive ways before his fingers confirmed the existence of them. Were those sad voices aiding him away from this fate? Only to call him to rest with them, he imagined. These innocents knew evil when they felt it and without doubt Ardeth could feel their fear.  
  
The sound of dripping drew his attention and the beings in this mausoleum confirmed the wisdom of following it. Where water leaked there would inevitably be a source behind the wall or ceiling, a place where more water waited and would hopefully offer an exit. But even so, he would have no time to dig his way out. Necromancer was hot on his heels, whispering wishes of death on his former friend.  
  
A hand clasped around his wrist, urging him onward, and for a moment he felt reluctant to allow the touch. But it wasn't dead or terrible or papery. The hand was soft and as light as air. He felt inclined to follow this thing, though how much of that was him and how much was of these spirits' collective will, he could not say and right now he didn't have the luxury to ponder. Drawn by their innocence he allowed himself to be led deeper into the catacombs. Ardeth learned the error of that at the wall of a dead end.  
  
The hands stopped him and his fingers brushed along a coffin before him. In a panic, he felt to either side of him where two more coffins lay. They had betrayed him to his death. Ardeth brushed his hair back and turned around, ready to face Necromancer to the death.  
  
There was a dark laugh and slow, shuffling footfalls. "And now it comes to it," the dark version of Sajul mused. "My intention has always been to kill you, Ardeth. From the very beginning, for the priest. This is what gave you your freedom. Not Evelyn's sacrifice, but my promise. That is why you live, but to die here."  
  
Ardeth backed against the coffin and held his hands up, waiting for the attack. He had suspected this would come, if not by a promise made to Imhotep, then by Necromancer's own delight. It hurt him no less, though. "Sajul," he said in one last attempt, knowing it would fail. If he could grab the thing's wrists and twist him around, perhaps he could escape in the other direction. Anything to free himself of this place. The Book of Amun Ra had removed Imhotep's power before and while the staff's ability to sever the priest's bindings to this earth would prevent him from returning again, they could live with having to guard his tomb. The important thing was to leave this place.  
  
He heard Necromancer stop and he felt a rush of adrenaline as he readied himself. But the creature did not attack. Rasping in quick, frustrated breaths, Necromancer growled low and seemed to pace not more than ten feet away. "We will not let you have him," the voice that seemed many whispered into the dark. "We want him. We want him to sleep here with us."  
  
"And so he shall!" the dead thing boomed, stopping somewhere to his left. "He is life! He is to be despised!"  
  
The sadness in this terrible place increased and soft wailing, barely heard above a whisper, sounded in the depths. "No," the voices echoed intently, yet with a hint of envy. Ardeth suddenly felt dizzy and dropped to his knees under the soft caress of many needful hands. They wanted him to stay and rest here, but he kept fighting. He had to escape. He had to get to Evy. But right now if he stood he had no doubt that he would fall over again. A hand found his chin and raised it up as if someone were looking into his face. "He is life. He is to be enjoyed. You should never have brought him here, for his beauty is our peace."  
  
"No," Ardeth breathed, finding it hard to even stay on his knees. But the hand touching his face kept him up. The ease of the bending of his will bothered him. Necromancer gave a surprising howl of fury, jolting him partially out of his dizzied worry. "Hhhrrr! You will pay for barring my way! When I am Master of the Dead I will bind you to my service and you will suffer unlike anything the high priest has done!" Ardeth looked up in the direction of the dead mage's voice, but did not hope for sight. What could stop him, this tangible being, from brushing past a few ghosts? Necromancer growled at the question and ignored it. "It matters not, Ardeth. These things are no less hungry than I! They will keep you here, savoring you until your last breath! I have the Staff of Osiris and you will fail! Die here in the despair they will share with you!"  
  
Given no time to reply, Ardeth sank to the floor and gave over to his sudden illness. He could almost say let them keep him, but for the knowledge of what that would mean. Necromancer laughed as he stalked away into the dark. Ardeth dropped down to his hands, reaching one out towards the Necromancer, knowing he would not escape without help. Even now he could feel the promise of peace lulling him into sleepy haze. "Leave me!" he hissed, but these things more frightening than Imhotep and  
  
Necromancer together would not let him go. They used his own betrayed emotions to draw his strength.  
  
Necromancer ignored his unsaid plea, his guidance complete and his goal of leading Ardeth to failure seeing all too near.  
  
Version Two:  
  
"Sleep with us," the multiple voices breathed again, putting visions of sleep within his mind. He would be guarded by his own host of human angels, kept safe and peaceful until death took him. They wanted him, wanted his life, to watch him as he would watch Evelyn and savor her breath. The world outside seemed suddenly bigger and more frightening.  
  
His attention fell to a sarcophagus nearby where he could hide and sleep, undisturbed by the priests. "No," he whispered, answered by doubt and fear. It was better to die here, to die peacefully than to fail at the blade of Imhotep, they were telling him. Better than dying alone, for in the end all would betray him. He would not believe it. This was a lie of Necromancer's.  
  
He took another step and despaired at the hurt swelling around him. They were frightened of him heading this way and their want for him consumed so searingly that he nearly fell to his knees in sadness. Some of that was his own now. How could he hope to find the Staff of Osiris and escape against such hypnotic need?  
  
Suddenly, they fled. All unnatural oppression went with them and was replaced by the sound of footsteps shuffling against the cement floor. And a voice. "This time you will not escape," Necromancer hissed in low tones that neared and paused a few feet away. "You feel tired."  
  
With a swallow, Ardeth shook his head and crossed his arms. "I will fight." They were slowly returning to them, their injured silence coming upon his back in interest of the conversation that took place. He meant that he would fight them, but they believed he would fight his former friend. From Sajul's tone he guessed that may be so soon.  
  
"No, you will not fight. And now it comes to it," the dark version of Sajul mused. "My intention has always been to kill you, Ardeth. From the very beginning, for the priest. This is what gave you your freedom. Not Evelyn's sacrifice, but my promise. That is why you live, but to die here."  
  
His friend and brother meant to kill him here in the catacombs beneath Imhotep's temple. He did not have to question why Necromancer had turned on him. He had suspected this would come, if not by a promise made to Imhotep, then by Necromancer's own delight. The creature himself had warned him not to give over to trust, but for the love in his heart Ardeth could not have helped but wait for final judgment. Now he was proven wrong and it stung for what little hope he had clung to deep within. That soft hissing before him prepared for one purpose-his death.  
  
"Sajul," he said in one last attempt, knowing it would fail. If he could grab the thing's wrists and twist him around, perhaps he could escape in the other direction. Anything to free himself of this place. The Book of Amun Ra had removed Imhotep's power before and while the staff's ability to sever the priest's bindings to this earth would prevent him from returning again, he could live with having to guard his tomb against resurrection instead. The important thing was to survive. The advantage belonged to the necromancer. It could see in the dark and he had no sight whatsoever in this place. The beings in this place seemed to tense in wait for whatever would take place and he could sense if a contest took place they would want for his success. But that gave him no comfort. They wanted him to live that he could die here. They desired him.  
  
He felt a rush of adrenaline as he readied himself. But the creature did not attack.  
  
To his preparations Necromancer laughed terribly and a chill spread through him. This was not his friend. Could anything human convey such a foul, demonic intent? "No, my friend. I cannot kill you. I would if it were possible, make no mistake, but it is not. Not in such a state as you are in now. And so I shall do the next best thing. I give you to the spirits here."  
  
More footsteps sounded and the Med-Jai backed away, but Necromancer's focus was now on speaking with the denizens of this place. "His grace is beautiful, is it not? That which is repugnant to my eyes fills you with hope, my children?"  
  
Affirmative, sickening sweetness seemed to fill the atmosphere as cold hands met his flesh, pawing at his clothing, touching him personally. He would have thrown them off had there been something there to grasp. Necromancer chortled at his discomfort and fear. "We want him," the voice that seemed many whispered into the dark. "We want him to sleep here with us."  
  
"And so he shall," the dead betrayer agreed, moving somewhere to his left as if to inspect the gift he gave. "He is life. He is to be despised."  
  
The sadness in this terrible place increased and soft wailing, barely heard above a whisper, sounded in the depths. "No," the voices echoed intently, yet with a hint of envy. Ardeth suddenly felt dizzy and dropped to his knees under the soft urge of needful hands on his shoulders. They wanted him to stay and rest here, but he kept fighting. He had to escape. He had to get to Evy. But right now if he stood he had no doubt that he would fall over again. A hand found his chin and raised it up as if someone were looking into his face. "He is life. He is to be enjoyed."  
  
"No," Ardeth breathed, finding it hard to even stay on his knees. But the hand touching his face kept him up. The ease of the bending of his will bothered him. How could he fight this? How could Sajul leave him to this failure? "Please." His will was failing.  
  
Necromancer rasped softly and the beings waited for an answer from their master. "I would have seen you dead, but I think this will prove better," he said in a quiet, unreadable tone. "These things are no less hungry than I, but you will live under their care. They will keep you here, savoring you and your despair until your last breath. I have the Staff of Osiris and you will fail." The footsteps retreated and the spirits seemed to swell with a quiet, mournful joy. He felt his hair being touched as if he were some sort of pet.  
  
"Don't do this, Sajul," he said in husky tones, losing himself to the sleepy haze of peace they wanted to give in exchange for his failure. "She needs me. This world needs me."  
  
Sajul snorted in contempt. "This world needs you? How arrogant you sound. You are nothing in the eyes of this world. Look at you, reduced to this. You wish me to help you, Ardeth? But you have accused me of requiring payment for my help. What can you offer?" He inhaled thoughtfully. "Lust no longer moves me or I may have demanded the use of your Evelyn. I wonder, for the world would you have given me permission to do that? To hurt her?"  
  
"No, I would not have, you filthy creature!" Bay replied harshly, but the weakness washed quickly over his spirit again. He needed to get up, but the hands were too numerous and too heavy.  
  
The necromancer laughed lightly at that and paced a little. "No, I thought not. Even you have your limits of heroism. So you would not let me hurt those you love, even for the sake of saving the world. Hmmm. But you would let me hurt you. I know you all too well. Do you loathe what I am, Ardeth? Do you find me repulsive and beneath you?" Ardeth bit back a biting reply and Necromancer took a step towards him. "Of course you do. I am far beneath you and a break in your pride would be the price I would demand."  
  
Bay exhaled as the sorrow around him increased. They waited for his reply, greedily wanting for him to fail this little test. But he would not. "What would you have me do?" he asked, fearing any number of things this evil being would ask. But whatever would come, no matter how much it hurt, he would do it for her. For his purpose.  
  
*  
  
Hehehehe. I had to cut it off there. ;-D Hmmm.what would Necromancer do to Ardeth to lower his pride? Make him walk about in spotted undies, perhaps? ;-) Anyhow, just thought I'd post a little taste of what's to come. :-O 


	5. Oh The Humanity

Well, since ff.net wouldn't publish my chapter rightly yesterday and prolly bumped me down the list, I'm gonna bump myself right back up. Muahaha.  
  
(Note: Anyone else having the !!!!!!!!!!!!! problem when uploading, well, I couldn't get rid of it until I uploaded as .doc. Doh! So that's how I solved my problem...)  
  
Hmm. Perhaps I should add something to make this a legit post, eh??? Okay.to tease our good Mummy author friend Deana because she was writing more UC stories than Mummy, one night I started writing this goofy little fic, which actually features other Mummy authors that have been kind enough to review my stories. It's not finished. It's meant to be humorous and teasing, so please everyone remember the characters are NOT in character. If I've added you to this story, please take it as it was intended, light- hearted, affectionate humor. Also, if I've added you and you don't want to be in it, then lemme know and I'll take you out. Thanks to all my reviewers!!!!  
  
*  
  
Oh The Humanity.  
  
by Angel Ruse  
  
Written to my friend, Deana, who has lost faith in Ardeth Bay. ~ He sat upon a large throne, bedecked in his Med-Jai robes and a black thong that was at least two sizes too small. The very picture of a well taken care of king, who had strength and physical beauty and one heck of a sword arm. Ardeth Bay was in a sultry mood and gazed upon himself in a grand mirror, rubbing his bottom lip and sharing meaningful glances with those dark eyes. He draped his bare leg over the arm of his chair and ignored the scream that followed and reverberated throughout the massive tent. Life was rough, being a pretty boy warrior. Did they not understand that?  
  
Ardeth took in a deep breath, watching his chest rise and fall. It was truly a magnificent sight, really. He blinked lengthily and smiled at the effect it had. All was right in the world. He was hot, Imhotep was gone and Deana, Ardeth's one of many true loves, cared about him more than life itself. Life was good. But suddenly his sweet bliss was intruded upon by a taller Med-Jai, who came before Ardeth and bowed. "Pittbull," he sighed as he stretched. There came that scream again. Ardeth pouted.  
  
Pittbull bowed his head and held a paper forward. "Lady Deana bid me give this you, oh Stealer-Of-The-Credit-For-Killing-He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named." Sitting up straight, Ardeth looked from side to side and hissed, "Shush! How is my lady, Pitty?" He grinned at Pittbull's face. The Med-Jai absolutely despised being called 'Pitty'. Pitty went absolutely livid with rage and Ardeth could barely contain his smile.  
  
"Your lady," Pittbull started through gritted teeth, "is gone!" The usually quiet Med-Jai pointed and laughed. "GONE! Guess who isn't the hottest bee in the hive! HA!"  
  
Ardeth rolled his eyes and wiggled his foot, opening the letter to read the words of one of the women who held his heart. Suddenly it all came wooshing over him. The laughter, the tickles.the stories she wrote about him. Ardeth crumpled the note, hurled it across the room and threw himself off his throne in anguish, screaming, "Nooooooooo! God, nooooooooo!"  
  
Pittbull laughed, then snickered, then stopped and scratched his head. Upon the desert sands did Ardeth Bay writhe in pain, his robe twisting in knots and flying up over his back to expose a well-rounded hind end. Pitty shuddered and looked away. "My.esophagus.is.closing," Ardeth squeaked, clutching madly at his throat. "Can't move. Can't breathe. Dying. Think I have.heart failure. Kidney!!!!" He groaned and grabbed at his shoulder. "HEALER!"  
  
Pitty, now thoroughly composed, let Ardeth roll around the floor for a few moments more, then could take the pressure no longer. "You always do this," he chided, picking his fellow brother warrior up off the ground and dusting him off. "I think you let all them girls' stories go to your head, man! For the love of life pull yourself together! It was funny the first time, but not now."  
  
"I do look pretty, laying there in a heap. All the girls love it." Ardeth sighed and looked around. "Where'd I stick my knife?"  
  
With a disgusted tone, Pitty answered, "The prop closet, Ardeth and it's called a scimitar. Please at least try to look like a king. You've been laying around sucking up all the attention too long. No wonder Deana left for you that other."  
  
"Welllll," Ardeth hissed, jerking up his pants and blowing a raspberry. "Why don't you just cut me open and pour salt inside my wounds?" He stopped and with bright, wide brown eyes, smiled. "I bet the girls would love that."  
  
Pittbull slit his eyes at his king and crossed his massive arms, watching Ardeth turn back to the mirror to admire how he looked in pants and an opened robe. "It's not as if you don't have other wives," he commented dryly.  
  
Ardeth crooked a finger, shook it thoughtfully and shoved a stick of gum into his mouth. "Which reminds me, have the killings stopped?"  
  
"Unfortunately for them, no they have not," the servant answered in a sad, sad tone. The wives of Ardeth Bay were having a little war of their own at the moment, which was disturbing the entire tribe with the sheer ferocity in which these women displayed their jealousy over Ardeth's time. "Last night in fact Lady Mommints very narrowly escaped a cruel fate delivered by Lady Montana. It seems the poor woman was to become a victim of bad fashion, having had all her Med-Jai robes replaced with purple spandex." Pitty shivered at the sudden twinkle in Ardeth's eyes.  
  
The young king rubbed his hands together and smiled. "I'll have to punish them, you know. I can't let this go unpunished." He winked hugely.  
  
Pittbull repressed a sigh and humored Ardeth. "Yes, I can just imagine their terror, Sire." His king absolutely adored being called 'Sire', for it brought to mind a stunning fabrication of his astounding virility. Pitty snickered and Ardeth cocked a dark eyebrow.  
  
The king looked far away, his dark eyes lost and hurt, those dark lashes finding rest upon the golden oasis of proud tattooed cheeks. His chest expanded ever so slightly as his lungs granted entrance to the unworthy air, then fell with his sweet, soft sigh. His delicately shampooed hair sang in cascades across a well-formed shoulder. "Pittbull," he began sorrowfully, then turned those devastating eyes upon his servant. The effects of that look were not lost upon even him and Pitty winced at the tears. "I miss Horus."  
  
Hands raced to Pitty's face and wracking sobs tore through his body. That one statement could level a building with the sheer heartbreak it conveyed. Even cold-hearted Pittbull Lafevre could not control himself in the shadow of that secret agony his king kept hidden away like a deadly secret. He straightened and looked up and said, "We all do." Ardeth turned away again and Pitty, tight-lipped, murmured, "Retard."  
  
Suddenly Ardeth whipped around, startling Pitty-who had gotten away with such utterances before. The muscular Med-Jai king glared hotly and pointed his servant right in the chest. "What?"  
  
"Retards," Pitty supplied coolly. "I called your wives retards. They should be helping you forget the bird."  
  
"OH GOD!" Ardeth wailed, dropping to his knees and looking lost. "HORUS! My poor." He paused and looked up. "Horus was a bird? Why would I need a bird for? They're scary." The king pulled himself together and got up shakily. "My wives. I must see my wives before I leave."  
  
*  
  
Frank wiggled his nose and looked at the fly that was buzzing around him. A low rumbling came from his remarkably toned chest. He looked quite the sight, sitting there in a pair of bell bottomed white pants, opened shirt with upturned collar and white blazer with a huge red F emblazoned on the back of it. Deana took cover when he pulled his gun out and aimed at the small insect. "If you do not leave me alone I am going to destroy your LIFE!" he growled, then pulled the trigger.  
  
Deana tried her best to ignore the groan from behind her and even more so the crashing of garbage cans. Perhaps outdoor café's weren't the best place to bring Frank. "Honey," she said softly, lowering his arm and smiling. "You don't have to shoot the bugs."  
  
He looked at her through emotionless, stoic eyes and cracked his neck. "Nonsense, woman. It's my job, nay my sworn duty to uphold justice, peace and sanity!" He hunched his shoulders and peered around cautiously.  
  
Scooting a little further away, Deana tucked her hair behind her ears and nodded, not quite sure about that last one. But whatever made him happy. "That's nice, dear," she said, watching him smooth his hair back. Whatever he did, gel, water, spray, it always bounced back into a spikey position.  
  
Quite suddenly she was stunned by a chuckle from his amazing lips. Frank pet her arm and said, "Lookit this." In a horrendous display did the corners of his mouth begin sinking into his face as he sucked and held it. He wiggled his fish lips and eyebrows and she giggled. "That's what I do to the all the criminals," he reported with a confident and serious nod. "It scares them."  
  
Covering her lips to hide her continued laughter, Deana tried to not look at him as he did it again and he frowned. "Sorry," she whispered.  
  
"They pay me big bucks to do that face," he assured her. He was so handsome, unlike Ardeth. They were totally on opposite ends of the poles, Deana decided. Ardeth was disturbing, Frank was a babe.  
  
Deana peered at her new husband and giggled as he made the fishface at her menacingly.  
  
*  
  
Skirts fluttered, girlish laughter could be heard and Ardeth's wives stood in their large shared tent, giving their husband the evil eye as he giggled. He was quite thoroughly excitable when seeing them en masse like this. The femininity in the room could choke a horse, not to mention the softness his wives exuded. He stopped and giggled gently, blushing and greeting, "Lady Lula." She shook her head smartly at being the first wife that snagged his attention.  
  
"Whatta ya know!?" she yelled, slapping his behind hotly, causing their husband to squeal and giggle harder. From across the way Lady Karri made a stabbing motion with an evil glint in her eye.  
  
Ardeth continued on down the line and smiled softly at the next wife. "I wish I could stay and get a thigh massage, Lady Marcher. I know how well you like doing it." He made a show of looking devastated and leaned close for a kiss, but was stopped by a dagger whizzing between them. Lady Marcher slit her eyes and made a gun with her fingers, pretending to shoot at Lady Mommints with an ominous, "Pccccuoooooow!" sound. Ardeth tsk'd her and beeped her nose, winning a sticking out of the tongue.  
  
"Lady Marxbros," Ardeth continued at the slightly peevish Med-Jai princess. He sighed and nodded knowingly. "Okay, okay. I'll return you to Jonathan." He batted his eyelashes pleadingly and she kicked him in the hip.  
  
"Oooooooh," Ardeth groaned loudly, falling and looking up with light shining in his eyes. "Do it again!"  
  
Lady Marxbros turned away with a chillingly unfeeling expression.  
  
"I'll do it!" a voice cried and Ardeth curled into a ball for fear of his life. Quite suddenly his behind was viciously assaulted by rapidly delivered foot. "HA!" Filing her nails, Lady Hadassaknamu-who too recently went by the name of Lady Cacina until Ardeth started calling her Lady Cappuccino by mistake, after all, he is king and has a lot on his mind-shook her head and smirked. "Nice, Lady Montana. Real nice. He's laying there dying and you kick him."  
  
Lady Montana opened her ruby lips to speak a revile, but was cut short by a louder voice calling from the back of the tent. "Ardeth!" she boomed and the ladies scowled. "Get off the floor, you freak."  
  
Ardeth pulled himself laboriously from the floor and straightened his now hanging open robe, which had mysteriously been torn open in the fall. He edged it even further open and smiled, but the act was useless as his wife came and ripped it off the rest of the way. "Lady Ruse," he greeted, cupping his hands shyly over his naked chest. She smiled lasciviously and leered. He shook his head and looked around him at the countless women that adored him in their own fashion.  
  
He had to get a hold of himself. They were just women. Nothing to fear. He cleared his throat and looked around again. "I've come to tell you two things, my wives whom I love very, very dearly in equal amounts." He coughed at their uneasy silence and winced when one lady ruffled her arms and cooed.  
  
They closed in a little bit nearer and he swallowed. "Er, yes. Well, one, I want you to stop killing each other."  
  
There was assorted laughter and comments after that proclamation and he smiled sheepishly. "Just kidding." They laughed and looked at him fondly- Lady Karri even awarded his head with a pat. He took a breath and they quieted again, eerily as he said, "And the second thing is I'm going to hunt Lady Deana."  
  
Ardeth blinked as they gaped and stared with conniving expressions. It all started with Lady Lula hissing, "You suck!" and went badly from there on in as the women circled around him and began yanking on his clothes with angry expressions.  
  
"No!" he cried, remembering the many stories some of them told about his demise and torment. A hand found his now stripped thigh and he giggled despite the impending doom. "Remember my virtue! I must keep my virtue!"  
  
Instantly all hands came off and he was treated to frosty stares. He yanked himself into a standing position and pulled his pants back up, zipping them with emphasis and giving them stern looks. "Oh look, he's mad," Lady Marcher whispered smartly and Ardeth sighed defeatedly.  
  
"Won't you ladies please take me seriously for once?" he asked them in disappointed tones. The ladies whispered amongst themselves and he brightened, wondering if they would agree to such a ridiculous request.  
  
He was answered quite plainly when his missing thong slapped him in the face. Ardeth crossed his arms and pouted.  
  
*  
  
Unfortunately..this is where it ends so far. :O 


	6. Oh The Humanity 2

Uh-oh. I'm at it again, amidst tweaking Softly and my website. :O Holy cows.

*

Oh The Humanity.

by Angel Ruse

Written to my friend, Deana, who has lost faith in Ardeth Bay.

~

The mountain was high, beautiful, majestic and utterly deadly. Snow covered the various jagged peeks and a feeling of awe swept over any onlooker so lucky as to see its foggy height. It was eternal standing beneath the sun, beneath the watch of a falcon. Floating upon the air the falcon cascaded down the cool air ever just as majestically, as if its flight was set to foreboding music that entered through the ears and both soothed and troubled the soul. With a cry the falcon swooped closer to the mountain with keen eyes and ears, listening to the breeze and the voice shouting within the heart of the mountain, so true and commanding.

"_You shall not pass!!!!!_"

Startled, the bird almost stopped in midair and widened its eyes. But the voice kept shouting and the music kept playing and the mountain kept sitting and someone pointed a gun at the unsuspecting bird and a shot rang out and…

And over the mountain other things were happening.__

"Aren't you Greek?"

It wasn't the hardest question she had ever asked a man. Certainly not the most embarrassing, or so she thought. So she couldn't really figure out why he was having so much trouble answering. He should know his own heritage, right? 'Kokoris' did _not_ sound French.

"No," he finally replied in a very heavy accent that _did_ sound French. He said it with a wave of his hand and a conspicuous thrust of his hips, then settled back down onto the bench, very close and personal. Deana fidgeted nervously with the ring on her finger and tried to ignore the blatant sounds of his breathing nearby. She didn't really believe him when he claimed to be French and she let it show. "Well," he conceded, slipping back into his natural tone. "Okay, I'm Greek. A little."

Deana raised an eyebrow and looked him straight in the face. "A little?" What was he, an airhead? "Is black your natural hair color?"

His expression was intense, sensual and very grave as he rested a hand on her leg and gave a squeeze, then a yelp when her purse connected with his knuckles. Frank's heavy gun did have its uses after all. "Would you…" he breathed, his lips quivering for effect, "find it sexy if it was?"

Deana scooted away. Again she started fidgeting nervously as she waited for Frank to get out of the warehouse he was now in. Nick scooted also, his face not one inch away from her cheek as he stared intensely, unmoving and dorky. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a blur of beige, chocolate and ebony. She just wasn't feeling it. "Um, Dr. Kokoris…"

"Nick," he corrected her, still staring as his hand found her shoulder. "Dr. Nick. Or sometimes the girls like to take out the 'r' and the 'n'. You can if you want. I don't mind."

She tried scooting again, but Dr. Nick was nothing if not a persistent little bugger. "Dr. Nick," she amended and continued. "I'm married."

"Mmmmmyessssss," he growled low, his eyes hitting the ring on her finger. It gleamed dangerously as shots rang out, then stopped when his eyes found hers. "This is what is so attractive about you." He leaned closer and giggled softly. "What is it they say? One ring to rule the ba--"

"I think I get it," Deana interrupted and sighed. "I love my husband."

Nick sniffled a little and looked up at the sky. "You love him. I can respect that. But are you happy with him? Are you truly happy, Deana. I don't think that you are." Deana watched curiously as he stood from the bench, then shot his devastating eyes back down on her with much drama. His voice raised an octave as his passion built within. "You know what he sees when he looks at you, Deana? He sees an object. His possession. His refrigerator."

Her brow narrowed considerably at that. "_Refrigerator?!_"

Kokoris nodded ominously and tilted his head back. "Re-frige-er-a-tor. Your nights are lonesome, filled with football and beer and lonesome wanting. He asks, you serve and he continues to watch the tight shiny panted, steroid induced fantasy that life is…nothing…but…a…game." He threw himself down on the pavement before her and rested his hands on her knees. "But I see something wholly different. I see a goddess. I see something to be worshipped and adored and…I…weep." Deana opened her mouth to comment on that load of crap, but something interrupted both their tirades. A pager. Nick searched his pocket and pulled out a purple beeper, the cursed when it remained silent. "Hmmm." Another pocket gave him a pink pager. It too was dead. On the third pager she thought she heard him mutter the name 'Serena', but he quickly covered it with "Serenade me with that pager song," and grinned foolishly.

The tenth pager was a live one and he cursed again, but stood in pained acceptance. His hand found her cheek as he whispered, "I must go, my pigeon. I must save lives today…today, tomorrow and forever. Because it's what I do. It's who I am. I give…"

"Rhinoplasties?" Deana supplied sweetly.

Instead of taking it as the veiled insult it was intended to be, Nick smiled on her knowingly and nodded. "You only know me too well, creature of the night. Love you, love me, love you, baby. When I get off work I'll take you to my brother's house. He likes fish and weapons."

His tight-jeaned, waddling departure made her smirk and she thanked Heaven for small mercies. She should never have allowed him to kiss her. Never. Still, if Frank turned out all wrong…but whom was she kidding? Deana let out a soft little sigh of happiness and looked over at the warehouse with fondness. This was the man that she planned to entangle…Frankie was fine.

But her expression of bliss turned into startlement quickly as the front door burst open and Frank walked out. He seemed calm enough, so she relaxed a little. At least he was alive. About halfway down the walk she considered that might not be so for long. Without warning and in a display more dramatic that Dr. Nick's little speech the building engulfed in flames. Frank sniffed loudly, not a speck of ash on him as he came up and held out his hand. "Frank!" she gasped, looking at the destruction behind him. "You exploded that warehouse! Why?"

He shrugged and looked her over quite sedately. "It's my job. Come on. I know where a drug house is. Then we need to head off to where that hacker's hiding. I've got a sting to pull."

Deana crossed her arms. "You said you were gonna take me on a date tonight!"

Frank glanced around him and scratched his head with serious eyes. "This is a date."

Looking him up and down, Deana opened her mouth to retort, but a little something caught her eye. Something she felt would give her a little edge in her arguing and perhaps make this stoic man blush a little. "Is there a reason your fly is unzipped, Frank?"

He frowned and looked down, then gave her a soft, sweet smile that shocked her from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair. "This is the exciting part of the date, Deana. The part where I show you my gun."

Her eyes widened considerably as his hand traveled down and when he reached into the open fly, she did the first thing that came to mind. She screamed. Bloody murder. "Look at this, baby!" he cackled and a clicking sound drew her back from the precipice of horror.

Deana rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "You keep a _gun_ in your pants?"

Frank shoved it back inside, groaned and zipped up. "Doesn't every man?" He took her hand. "What did you think I meant? You…oooooh." He shook his head rapidly, causing his cheeks to make an unloveable flapping sound. "Nonono. Never that. _Nehehver_ that."

She cocked an eyebrow. "_Never?_"

As they started walking towards his Escort, Frank shrugged. "Why? We have all the excitement we can stand."

*

Ardeth swiveled the chair around again and gushed, "Weeee!" It was really becoming a compulsion, actually. As the chair slowed he slung a heavily booted foot back onto the desk, gave a shove and sent himself whirling again.

"Is this idiot always like this?" a dark voice hissed from a dark, dark corner. Two blue eyes glinted darkly at Ardeth in disgust. "Stupid fool."

The Med-Jai king stuck his tongue out at his old friend and twirled again. "You're just jealous. Not that I'm blaming you for that, mind you." He polished his nails on his shirt and stopped the chair. "You know, sometimes it hurts to be beautiful. I know how that sounds, but it really does. I wish…I wish I understood life as a common man. You must have it so easy. So don't be jealous. Be thankful, my friend."

"Jealous?" retorted the shadowy voice as the form got up from his chair. He stepped into the light and pulled a cigarette out of his mouth, then pointed. "The only reason those silly bints follow after you is because of that built body you cart around like a load." Jonathan pointed two cigarette-clad fingers towards his temple and shook his head. "But you haven't got anything where it'll count."

Ardeth shrugged and twirled with a satisfied little smile. "Like I said. Don't be jealous."

Carnahan shook his head and paced. "What are you gonna do when those steroids turn to hemorrhoids, you ruddy wanker?"

Another form entered the room with a tray. "Don't fight, guys. Cookie?" Rick smiled up at both men with a weird glint in his eyes. "Look! They spell 'Frank Sucks!' when you arrange them in order."

Sticking his tongue out and pulling a knife from his jacket, Jonathan stopped and sized them both up with much disgust. Scratching the edge of the blade against his temple and eyeing Rick dazedly, he muttered, "Well, if it isn't Nancy #2. I oughta gut the lot of you like fish and leave your twitching innards on the carpet to dry out for the lawn. Soddin' bunch of babies. I just really want to kill something."

Ardeth took the "F" cookie with a joke about its effect in mind for later as his stomach rumbled. Immediately Rick turned away, tray in hand, saying, "I better go make another 'F' to replace it. We can't have it uneven." He blinked with an off little smile and slipped into the kitchen again.

"Geeeeez," Carnahan drawled, yanking a gun from his jacket and looking down the barrel as he pointed it towards the kitchen. "Sad, isn't it? He's been that way ever since he learned Evy's been raising Imhotep on purpose all along." He giggled and made a distinctive 'pccuuuuueeeewww' sound, eyeballing Ardeth's head down the barrel of his gun. "At least you're man enough to go after your little runaways, which ain't saying much, I'll grant him. But noooo. Rick just took to making cookies and lovely little doilies and the like. Sad son of a legless trollop."

Ardeth rubbed his tummy and burped, not listening to a word Jonathan spoke. "Mmm. Tastes like cookies."

Jonathan cursed.

*

"What a hunk," Lady Marcher whispered, eyeballing a hiney that ushered itself into the kitchen upon the body of a man laden with a tray full of cookies.

Lady Marxbros scoffed at the choice meat, retorting to Lady Dead-Girls-Watch, "A hunk of what?"

Lady Lula sniffed, hands on her hips, watching the little scene of her husband and the two others playing out. "My guess would be a hunk of crap, but I could be wrong."

Lady Marcher crossed her arms, firm in her belief. "Shut up. All of you. Just look at Ardeth." Shaking her head, Marcher sighed in malcontent as her shared husband began to twirl again. The ladies all watched in silence as his chair swiveled and stopped, giving them all a good view of his decidedly green pallor. The Med-Jai king had apparently decided he'd had enough, standing from his chair and stumbling away from it with a hand to the head.

"Poor baby," Lady Mommints sighed, touching a hand to the glass. With an evil glint in her eye Lady Marcher strayed her hand to her dagger with the intent of chopping it off, but stopped short when O'Connell re-entered the room with a fresh tray. "You're not gonna drool on the window are you?" Mommints chortled from beside her.

Marcher sniffed in distaste and dusted her shirt off. "I might. So, what's the plan?"

Stepping forward from the shadows and straightening mussed hair, Lady Ruse produced a piece of paper from seemingly nowhere. "What's that sound?" Lady Jessie C asked with a distrustful glance towards the trees near this little shack. "You know, if I didn't know any better…I could swear I heard Imhotep whispering a moment ago."

"It was nothing," Ruse replied with a certainty and pointed at the paper. "Imhotep indeed. He's a hoochie. Anyway, we all know our husband's problem is that pesky virginity he's been carting around. We all agree he needs to grow up, right?"

A quite disgustingly cheerful "Weeeeeeeeee!" from inside left no doubt in any of the ladies' minds. They all nodded quite seriously and winced at the "I'm gonna be sick," that followed.

"Bloody hell! Get your big hair away from me! Your bloody head looks like a hedge!" Jonathan was hissing and Lady Marxbros grinned mysteriously. Lady Karri eyed her and her smile became almost innocent. Almost. Karri felt around for her gun, unimpressed.

"Okay," Ruse continued. "So the plan is get in there, drag him out before Deana and Spank get here, strip him of his clothes and have our way with him. Any questions?" The ladies' exchanged glances and each shook her head. Ruse smiled and looked down at the lurid drawing of a naked Ardeth that Lady Wildcardgal had gifted them with, cause that's what she liked to draw best. It was quite blatant and placed him in a fairly odd position, but the most important part was there and very visible.

"Actually," piped in Lady Anya, who clutched the ring Ardeth had given her in the palm of her hand. She didn't have her question out before others converged to answer lest there be any doubt why they should help Ardeth's virginity.

Ruse opened her mouth, but Lady Marcher shoved her aside. "Because, it's like the stories, Anya. The ones that meant something to you, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think I understand, Anya. Folk in those tales had lots of chances at turning back, only they didn't. Because they were holding on to something…that there's something really hot in Ri—Ardeth's pants…" she coughed at the narrowed brows, "…in our case, that is."

"Ooookay," Lady Lula commented with a shake of her head. "Let Operation Man-Handle commence! All for one and buns for all!" She cackled madly at her humor, drawing weirded out stares from the others. "What? It was a joke? Geez."

Converging upon the house like locusts on a field, each one of Ardeth's wives found an opening in the house and began in her own fashion to break in. The poor Med-Jai did not stand a chance and didn't even know what was coming.

*

:-O ;-) Well…to be continued?? Will we steal Ardeth's virginity? Will Rick win Evy back or find love with Lady Marcher? Will Jonathan gut Ardeth like a fishy? Tune in next…whenever. :-D


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